We all have our struggles and crosses to bear. I have stiches in my hand that are driving me
half totally crazy. Nothing seems to help…except ice and elevation…one night I even took one of those poop stopping pain pills…I was desperate to be pain free to sleep. I figured if one stopped me up at least I was pain free for four hours…and eventually I would poop again. Thank goodness just one had no effect!!!
I am tired. I bawl at the drop of a hat. I am cranky…yet I am not in a forest fire or a hurricane ..SO I should quit the bitchin…suck it up and put my big girl panties on and not rip out the fourteen stitches in my hand by myself. ( I could start and remove a few and then Far Guy will have to help me finish.)
If I were a dog I would certainly have bitten them to release the torturous things. I would have to wear that doggie cone of shame because I could not be trusted if I were a dog.
Life would be easier if I WERE A DOG.
I am beginning to think that I am allergic to those stitches and what ever else they used to close up that incision. It hurts, it itches…I am done bitching now…the stitches will be gone in a few more hours. I can do it…maybe. I wonder how many minutes it is until then?
This is a photo my baby brother sent me from Houston. He works there. He wrote “ I had a leaky garage ceiling, no significant issues. Some folks down the street not so much see the photo…” He was away from Houston during Hurricane Harvey and returned after Labor Day.